Cherished

by Elizabeth Thornton

  For a full half minute, she tried to console herself with that thought. She was vigorously soaping her knees when a picture flashed into her brain. Leon, pressing kisses to those knees, his face flushed with passion and his husky words blatantly arousing her.

  “Look at me, crazy with wanting you. Look at you, open to me, inviting me to enter your body.”

  She bolted from the bath as if she had discovered a snake in it. Shivering, shaking, she wrapped herself in a towel and sat on the lid of the commode, trying to compose herself. This would never do. She must forget about last night. She must remember that Leon Devereux looked upon all women as fair game.

  Closing her eyes, she cast her mind back in time to the night she had surprised Leon in the dower house with Lady Riddley. Her recall was vivid, as it should be. The picture had been one that had haunted her for years.

  Leon was crouched over the woman. She was moaning and panting. His breathing was labored. Muscles clenched and rippled across the breadth of his shoulders. His hand was between the woman’s thighs. The woman was…Emily shot to her feet. She was the woman on the bed. She was the woman moaning and panting, urging him to take her, just as she had done last night. Damn Leon Devereux! What had he done to her?

  A sharp rap on the door brought her back to the present with a start. “Emily? What’s keeping you? Come and eat. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  What was he up to? What game was he playing? She squared her shoulders. There was only one way to find out.

  She was every inch the daughter of a marquess when she swept into the small cabin. Her dignity suffered a small setback, however, when her husband plucked the damp towel from her and wrapped her in her own brocade dressing gown as if she were a child. Quickly belting it, she obediently accepted the chair he indicated. Grilled kippers and kidney. Her favorite. It seemed that there was no end to the man’s gall.

  “Your favorites,” he said, seating himself on the other side of the table, his eyes alight with suppressed laughter.

  If she had not been at starvation’s door, she told herself, she would have politely declined his offer of breakfast. But having forgone supper the night before, she could not resist the aromas which tickled her nostrils. For some few minutes, no words were spoken as she ate with relish. Leon, as was his habit, partook sparingly of breakfast.

  “More coffee?”

  She nodded, glancing into his eyes, then quickly looking away as he refilled her cup from a silver coffeepot. Leon Devereux was as smug as a cat who had swallowed the canary. He was gloating and she could not bear it.

  When the pangs of hunger were satisfied, she delicately touched her napkin to her lips and placed it carefully on the table. Only then did she speak. “I should like to know,” she said, icily calm, “why I am being abducted.”

  “Abducted?” His eyebrows shot up. “There are no locks on the doors. In any event, you were willing enough last night when I brought you here.”

  In the cold light of day, the girl she had been last night was an enigma to her. She couldn’t begin to explain about the odd mood that had overtaken her, or her even more bewildering attraction to the stranger in the scarlet domino. She made do with a half-truth. “I didn’t know it was you,” she said. “I thought you were someone else.”

  His compelling gaze held hers when she would have looked away. Leon wasn’t gloating now, and the thought wasn’t as gratifying as she had expected it to be.

  “William Addison,” he said.

  In spite of his lazy pose, every instinct warned her to proceed with extreme caution. “I take it you received Sara’s letter.”

  “I did.”

  “Then you must know about William and me.”

  “What is there to know?” He regarded her quizzically over the rim of his coffee cup.

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “William has asked me to marry him.”

  His lashes drooped to half-mast. “It may have escaped your notice,” he said, his voice very dry, “that you already have a husband.”

  She stared at him in amazement. “Husband? You are not my husband. We have never lived together. The marriage has never been…” Her eyes went wide as comprehension dawned.

  “Precisely,” he said, nodding. “Last night changes everything.”

  Her mouth opened and closed, and her bosom began to heave. Anger was an emotion that rarely troubled Emily. Only Leon Devereux had the uncanny knack of testing a temper she would have sworn she did not possess. Eyes flashing, she said, “You promised me an annulment. You know you did, and I am holding you to that promise.”

  “A promise that was made under duress.”

  His reasonable tone only exacerbated Emily’s sense of ill-usage. “Duress?” she demanded incredulously. “What does that mean? No one forced you to make that promise.”

  “You did. Don’t you remember? You refused to marry me until you had my assurance that the marriage would be in name only, and that it would be dissolved at some date in the distant future. You wouldn’t listen to reason. What else could I do? I had to make that promise, if only for your own good. You were too young to understand it then. But now that you are a grown woman, you must see that I had no choice.”

  She pressed a hand to her throbbing temples as the recollection of that night and its aftermath came back to her. Whatever the truth of the matter, her uncle had told her, there were witnesses who would swear that she had been dishonored. There was only one way to set things to rights and that was for Leon and her to marry at once.

  She had been distraught that night, but not too distraught to realize that marriage to Leon Devereux was the last thing she wanted. Leon Devereux would make her life wretched. Social ruin, so she had passionately averred to her guardian, was infinitely to be preferred. It was then that Leon had begged some time alone with her and, over her protests, Uncle Rolfe had acquiesced.

  Leon had said many things to her, even going so far as to touch upon the sordid episode in the dower house. Judith Riddley meant nothing to him, he had sworn. The woman had thrown herself at his head and, in a weak moment, he had taken what she was offering. Emily need never fear that he would use her as he had used Judith Riddley.

  Even that promise had not the power to persuade her. It was then that he had gone one step further. Their marriage would be in name only. One day, she would meet someone who was worthy of her love. When that day arrived, the marriage would be annulled. In the meantime, Leon must return to New York to take up his life there. It was that more than anything which had calmed her. Husband or no, Leon Devereux would be thousands of miles away. There was no reason not to accept his assurances. Leon wanted the marriage no more than she herself.

  In an anguished whisper, she said, “Why have you done this? Why have you gone back on your promise?”

  He regarded her for a long moment and then said calmly, “Emily, you are not a green girl now. You must see that an annulment was never a possibility. Your name would be bandied about in every salon in Mayfair. Your reputation would be in tatters. No one would believe your innocence. To have our marriage annulled would hardly be a kindness to you.”

  “I should be the judge of that,” she snapped.

  With an exaggerated sigh, he reached for the coffeepot and replenished his own empty cup. Emily strove to hold on to her tongue. Leon Devereux was not a man to be pushed. If there was any way out of their present difficulties, it behooved her not to antagonize him.

  She tried a different tack. “Leon,” she said appealingly, managing a small smile, “I love William. He loves me. What do we care for what the world thinks? I promise you, an annulment will make no difference to him.”

  Though he made no overt movement, she could sense the violence in Leon. She moistened her dry lips.

  Finally, he said, “You love William Addison?”

  She nodded, but not very vigorously.

  “Then how do you explain last night?”

  “Last night?” She said the words carefully.


  “Yes, last night.” He waited for her to say something, to give him a clue to what she was feeling. When she remained wide-eyed and silent, he went on. “How will you explain last night to William Addison? How do you explain it to yourself?”

  Her color heightened. Her eyes slid away from his. In a stifled tone, she said, “You are a man. You must understand these things better than I do.”

  He arched one brow. “Must I?”

  “Uncle Rolfe explained it all to me when we married, after you went away. Something to do with a carnal appetite. I did not understand it then. I do now.”

  “Carnal appetite? That’s all it was? Emily, there are none so blind as those who will not see. I know you better than you know yourself. No, I won’t quarrel with you. But I wish you would tell me how you are going to explain last night to William Addison.”

  At her look of shocked mortification, he chuckled. “On second thought, don’t bother to tell me. The question has become academic. Our marriage was consummated. From now on, I don’t want you anywhere near Addison.”

  In spite of her uneasiness, her temper flared. “This has gone far enough! Why are you toying with me like this? What is it you really want, Leon?”

  The gravity of his tone underscored the quiet words. “I’m thirty-one years old. It’s time I settled down. I want a wife, a real home, and children. Is that so very hard to understand?”

  “You are not the marrying kind,” she said, not taunting, not sneering, merely stating the obvious. “You would never have married me if you had not been forced into it. I just can’t see you tying yourself down to one woman. But you wouldn’t, would you? No, your kind likes to have his cake and eat it, too.”

  At the scathing words, his expression hardened. “Thank you,” he said. “But your opinion of my character can hardly matter to me. You don’t know me, Emily. In the last five years, we have rarely been in each other’s company, and on those few occasions when we were together, you could hardly bring yourself to be civil to me.”

  For a moment, she thought that she might have hurt him, but almost immediately she discarded that impression. Her good opinion had never mattered to Leon. Even so, she was guilty of rank impertinence. It was worse than impertinence. Her thoughtless words carried a sting that was meant to wound.

  Squirming in her place, in as contrite a tone as she could manage, she said, “I beg your pardon, Leon. That was inexcusable. You are right. I really don’t know you very well. Please say that you forgive me.”

  His lips curved. “I like to see you humble,” he said. “No, don’t spoil it by flying into a temper. It’s a new experience for me. You are usually such a spitfire.”

  “I wasn’t a spitfire last night,” she contradicted, then colored hotly from throat to hairline when she realized that she had spoken her thoughts aloud. “Forget about last night,” she said hurriedly. “We both know it means nothing. Think about the future. Your future. Leon, if we pretend that last night never happened, we could still procure an annulment. Then you would be free to marry…” She almost said Sara but quickly amended it to “…the lady of your choice.”

  “You are my choice, Emily. And that’s an end of it.”

  He was so icily matter-of-fact that Emily drew her dressing gown more tightly about her as though his words had chilled her. Her eyes searched his face. “Leon…” she began with deliberate patience, “listen to me…”

  “No, you listen to me. We are married. The sooner you get used to the idea, the better it will be for you. I am not your uncle, so don’t think to try and get round me. Perhaps it’s not the kind of marriage that either of us would have wanted. But it is a marriage of sorts. If you would give it half a chance, I think we could make something of it. Last night proved that. Emily, why won’t you admit that you are not so indifferent to me as you pretend? Meet me halfway. Let’s agree to bury the past and start fresh. What do you say?”

  There was a strange wistfulness in her eyes, and Leon found that he was waiting for her answer with bated breath. As suddenly as the look had come upon her, it was gone.

  “I’m not interested in the sort of marriage you describe,” she said. “I believe in love, Leon. Love. I want the kind of marriage that Uncle Rolfe and Aunt Zoë have. If I can’t have that, I don’t want anything. I don’t want second best.”

  He shrugged. “So, I’m to be cast in the role of autocrat? Though it’s not a role I relish, so be it. Your choice, Emily, not mine. Remember that.” Slowly, he rose to his feet and crossed to the door. “Better get dressed,” he said. “You’ll find a selection of your gowns in the dresser. We’ll be docking at Westminster Pier before long.”

  She called his name before he had made his exit. “What are my gowns doing here? I don’t understand. Where were you taking me? Why did you abduct me? For heaven’s sake, tell me what is going on.”

  “If things had been different, we would have been cruising the Thames on a belated honeymoon. Somehow, the idea has lost its appeal.”

  He made for the bow of the boat and stood with his hands gripping the rails, wishing that he was gripping William Addison’s throat and throttling the life out of him. Anger was an emotion Leon thoroughly detested. It served no useful purpose. More often than not, it clouded a man’s judgment. And the last thing he could afford in his dealings with Emily was for anger to get the better of him.

  Until Addison’s name came into the conversation, he had felt on top of the world, convinced that winning Emily was going to be so much easier than he had anticipated. He was halfway persuaded that the battle was already won. How could he help gloating a little? Then she had said those three little words, and had deflated him like a burst balloon.

  I love William, she had calmly told him. It couldn’t be true. Emily could not have surrendered so sweetly to him if she were in love with another man. He let that thought revolve in his mind, coming at it from all sides. By degrees, he got his anger under control. There were women who could give their bodies for the pleasuring, but Emily wasn’t one of them. She was a romantic. She had too much respect for herself. She must feel something for him. It wasn’t a shade compared to what he felt for her, but it was a beginning. He could build on it if only she would let her guard down, let him get close to her.

  As he stood absently looking out over the river he reflected that this time yesterday, he would not have believed that he could have come so far with her. They were lovers. She had given him the gift of her innocence, not Addison. That gave him an advantage over all challengers, including Addison.

  He stayed by the rail lost in reverie for some few minutes. Coming to himself, smiling whimsically at some private joke, he went below to his own cabin.

  Emily heard his footfalls as he passed her door, and her heart beat a little faster. She didn’t know what to make of her rioting emotions. She knew one thing, though. She was seeing Leon Devereux in a new light. He wasn’t merely Aunt Zoë’s hateful younger brother and the bane of her life. He was a virile male. He was a passionate, tender lover. He was…

  The sudden throb at her nipples froze her train of thought. Gingerly, she touched her fingers to them. They were as hard as little pebbles and as sensitive as a patch of sunburn. Groaning, she palmed her breasts, intending to ease the ache. Without volition her mind made electrifying connections: Leon, the night before, his dark head against her white breast, her fingers tangled in his crisp hair, holding him to her as he…

  She felt as weak as a kitten. Leaning against the bedpost for support, she strove to subdue the sensations which threatened to overwhelm her. Think. She must think.

  Leon had consummated the marriage. He wanted to ruin their chances of an annulment. Why?

  She was prepared to believe him when he said that he wanted a more settled life. Most men, even the roués, seemed to set great store by having heirs to follow in their footsteps. Men wanted sons. What she could not believe were Leon’s reasons for choosing her for his consort. She did not believe him when he said that an ann
ulment would tarnish her reputation, and even if it were true, such things meant little to her—or to Leon for that matter. She didn’t know why she knew this, she just did. Leon Devereux did not give a fig for the good opinion of any man. No. There was another reason, a more devious one, for his decision to hold his wife to a marriage that neither of them wanted. For the moment, none came to mind, and she soon gave up that fruitless avenue of thought to concentrate on how she might extricate herself from her predicament.

  Her best course, she decided, was to appeal to her Uncle Rolfe. He would help her if she played her cards right. And if that route failed, she would appeal to William.

  At the thought of William, another groan escaped her lips. She didn’t know how she was going to explain last night to William. And she must explain it. She couldn’t hide it from him. She didn’t want to hide it from him. Between true lovers, there must be no deceit. Their hearts, their minds, must always be open to each other. William would be hurt. He would be angry, and rightly so. Oh, God, how could she possibly find the words to explain something she herself did not understand? If only she could say that Leon had forced himself upon her. But it hadn’t been like that. Not really. There was a language that went beyond words, and Leon had read her correctly. And later, during that long night, she had not tried to deny him, no, not once. If only it had been William who had taken her and not Leon!

  That thought led to another. William as her lover. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine William kissing her, caressing her intimately, as Leon had done.

  Look at me, crazy with wanting you. Look at you…

  With a little cry of anguish, she flung herself to one of the open windows. Images of Leon making love to her were burned into her brain, burned into her body. She would never be rid of them. She would never be rid of him.

  When the door to her cabin opened, she spun round to face the intruder. Leon was framed in the doorway, as though he had answered her silent summons.